Perfecting the Kiss Shot
by xphile.1
Summary: Fiona shows Myrtle how to play pool. A prompt-driven longish one-shot with femslash.


**A/N: Standard disclaimer; not my show or characters. I just like to play dirty? Femslash, and AU from the show (oh wait, that's pretty synonymous so far). Set before Cordelia's blindness and Myrtle's burning. I'm not an expert at pool, but hopefully it's somewhat accurate. Song lyrics (in quotes/italics) are from Jimi Hendrix's 'Purple Haze.' **

**Thank you for the prompt, one of my tumblr besties, dointhetumble. xoxo**

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Myrtle Snow, prominent figurehead of the Council, never thought she'd end up in such a dreadful place. With annual summits being held in some of the most picturesque cities in the world, the current scenery she was subjected to at this moment was definitely toward the bottom of the list of places she had visited. No, wait. Were those Christmas lights strung up near the ceiling in the middle of October? She took it back; this place didn't even deserve to be_ on_ the list.

Why she had let Fiona Goode convince her into accompanying her to the local dive bar was quite beyond Myrtle's comprehension, especially given the Council's inherent distrust of the Supreme. For one, the lighting was lackluster, and the clientele favored _denim_, the most abhorrent of materials to Myrtle. However, there were a few things that compelled her to remain. Aside from the fact that the _Supreme_ herself had requested her presence, the drinks were strong enough to placate her nerves, there were hardly any people in the bar, and the music was half decent. Plus, she had a good vantage point to watch Fiona without arousing suspicion.

Ever since they were young women at Miss Robichaux's Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies refining their abilities as witches, Myrtle had admired Fiona's elegant beauty. Her sunshine kissed tresses always seemed to shimmer like those damn shampoo commercials that promised hair silkier than Rapunzel herself. The layered locks were styled just enough to look effortless, touching just above her shoulders and feathering toward her neck and face as if reaching for her flawless flesh. Her bangs were angled across her forehead haphazardly so she'd have the mannerism of flicking them out of her eyes to perform while flirting with men. And don't get her started on Fiona's face. Those damn cheekbones were sculpted to Scandinavian supermodel specifications, and had lips to match, with the bottom one plump enough to drum up thoughts of what it would be like to nip on the meticulously painted skin.

Myrtle had envied Fiona's attractiveness so much that she never realized when it crossed the line to just pure attraction. It was as though she woke up one morning and instead of wishing she herself had those perfectly shaped lips and the silky blonde locks, she began longing to touch her own lips to Fiona's and thread her own fingers into Fiona's hair. Not one to be shallow, Myrtle admired other traits the Supreme possessed, some to a fault, such as confidence and assertiveness. The woman knew how to cajole her way into and out of anything. Her intelligence and wit were nothing to underestimate, either. Fiona Goode was indeed one grand package, Myrtle thought to herself.

Watching the blonde toss her head back in an obviously facetious bout of laughter, Myrtle resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the poor sap who thought he would be going anywhere but home alone tonight. Her gaze dropped away from Fiona to the shot glass in front of her, and she lifted it in a salute to herself to resign her repressed feelings that would never see the light of day. That was quite fitting, given the dim interior of the bar, she mused while swiftly downing the liquid. Once the empty glass was set on the counter, her attention returned to Fiona to travel the length of her body which was hugged by a dark royal purple dress with a hem that stopped mid-thigh, to show all the world, or at least the half dozen people in this place, that she had legs to die for that ended in sky high black patent Christian Loubiton heels. The dress was otherwise simple, coming down modestly to a v-shape that shielded any sort of cleavage unless she was leaning forward. Of course, Fiona happened to do just that, placing her elbows on the bar counter to lean in, motioning to the bartender. Myrtle took the opportunity to steal a glance off to her right, eyes shifting between Fiona's face and the low collar of her dress, but the only glimpse of skin was the slight swell where her breast began to curve.

_"Purple Haze was in my brain,_  
_lately things don't seem the same"_

Familiar song lyrics with an easily placed guitar riff echoed in the bar. Myrtle drew in a deep breath as Fiona caught her gaze unexpectedly. Shit. Did she catch her? Quickly turning her head to look away as if something had caught her interest, Myrtle cautiously looked back in Fiona's direction.

Fiona was talking to the bartender and gesturing toward Myrtle with the hint of a smile, so maybe she hadn't noticed. With two shot glasses in hand, Fiona excused herself from the man who had sat on the bar stool between the two women. Inebriation was her second nature, and she often wore it well. This was evident as Fiona took careful steps to Myrtle's seat at the bar. "Myrtle Snow, do you hear what the hell is playing right now?! Woodstock!" Fiona exclaimed with a tipsy laugh. Offering one shot to Myrtle, and then clinking the glasses together, they made quick work of downing the liquid. Fiona leaned in close to Myrtle, brushing against her arm to set the empty glass in front of her on the bar countertop. Using her hands to steady herself, Fiona then grasped Myrtle's shoulders to spin the woman in her seat so she was facing her. "We used to play that record constantly!"

_"Actin' funny but I don't know why,_  
_'scuse me while I kiss the sky"_

Fiona's hips began to sway with the music as she stood in front of Myrtle's knees, hands still on her shoulders, and Myrtle thought she was surely going to hyperventilate from the woman's proximity. It took everything in her to avert her gaze to anywhere but Fiona's chest, and so she settled on the red felt pool tables behind the pleasantly sloshed vixen. Drawn out of her concentration by two eager hands grasping her own, Myrtle was thrown off balance as Fiona pulled her from her perch on the bar stool.

"C'mon, let's play pool so that slimeball will stop talking to me." Fiona didn't wait for a response since the answer to anything she ever wanted would always be an affirmative whether the other party agreed or not. She started toward the rack where the cues were lined up, hand still wrapped around Myrtle's fingers as she tugged her along.

"But I don't even know how to play!" Regaining the ability to actually speak after such an outpouring of physical contact from the Supreme, Myrtle let herself be led across the surprisingly non-sticky bar floor. Another positive point for this place in her book. Myrtle's gaze dropped to Fiona's sashaying hips as they reached the wall where Fiona retrieved a cue stick to place in Myrtle's hands.

"It's easy...c'mon, I'll show you." There was no room for argument with the tone of Fiona's voice. She nudged her shoulder against Myrtle as she moved toward the table and then bent at the waist in front of her to search for the triangle rack.

_"Purple Haze all around,_  
_don't know if I'm coming up or down_"

Good Lord. Myrtle simply could not pass up this divine chance to stare at Fiona's luscious derriere without worrying anyone else would notice. She bit the inside of her bottom lip, watching Fiona's hips continuing to shift in rhythm with the song, the shapely curve of her bottom with the practically painted-on dress taunting Myrtle. All she could see was the purple fabric clinging to curves that made certain feelings swirl within her body. She shut her eyes for a second, an image flashing through her mind of the two of them clutching each other tightly in a heated embrace, hands squeezing each others' behinds. Thankful for the music volume overcompensating for any soft noise that may have emanated from her throat, Myrtle nonchalantly looked away as Fiona straightened with the wooden triangular item in hand.

Fiona systematically rounded the table to collect the balls from the pockets and then arranged them in the triangle at the foot of the table, her upper body bowing forward to give an oblivious albeit gratuitous peek down the front of her dress. Myrtle swallowed back a groan, clenching the stick in her hand so hard she thought it might just snap in two.

_"Am I happy or in misery?_  
_Whatever it is, that girl put a spell on me"_

Palm skimming the orbs to right them correctly, Fiona's attention remained on setting up the table. Myrtle watched the slender fingers, wondering how they would feel gliding over her bare skin, and had to feign a fit of coughing so she could look away as Fiona's eyes met her own.

Satisfied with the set-up, Fiona removed the wooden triangle and sauntered back to the woman, the white cue ball in the grip of her fingers. She waved Myrtle closer with a flick of her wrist. "Alright, lean over like this," she said while displaying the position, bending at the waist slightly over the head of the table where the white cue ball had then been placed.

Another fleeting glance was given to Fiona's rear end. Myrtle shook her head at her own misgivings, chiding herself for having perhaps one too many shots of alcohol. That was obviously the cause of the longing stares toward someone she had sworn to never trust, was it not? She went with that theory, and took her place next to Fiona, mirroring her stance as best she could given the effects of drinking.

"Wonderful! You're a natural already!" Fiona's eyes seemed to sparkle with mirth as she watched the redhead, head tilted to the side. She glanced at the table for a moment and then back up, slightly curled locks tickling her cheek and eyelashes. And then she did _it_. She tossed the perfectly orchestrated layers of flaxen gold back with a shake of her head before speaking again. The very move Fiona used to entice men to stare at her neck and salivate or to fantasize about threading their thick fingers in her silky locks. Myrtle lost all hope for herself and found it increasingly difficult to pay attention.

_"Purple Haze was in my eyes,_  
_don't know if it's day or night"_

"And the cue stick, hold it like this," Fiona said, miming the act of holding the object with her right arm extended behind her somewhat, while her other hand balanced above the red felt.

Myrtle tried. She really did, but all she could manage was a clumsy imitation of Fiona's practiced pose. The temperature seemed so much warmer now with the woman standing so close to her personal space, and Myrtle felt the blood rushing behind her ears. She lifted her eyes to Fiona sheepishly. "I'm not much of a player, I guess. Maybe the slimeball will play with you instead?" Myrtle's lips twisted in smirk as she nodded her head toward the man who was still sitting at the bar with a wistful look.

"It's not that hard, Christ," Fiona said in a toying tone, ignoring the man's stare as she straightened and took a few shaky steps to stand directly behind Myrtle. Hands grasping the woman's hips, Fiona jerked her backward just a bit so that Myrtle's rear end thumped against the front of her thighs. Fiona slid her right hand from Myrtle's hip up her waist toward her back, tracing her spine with her palm. "Keep your back straight, eyes ahead at the formation up there." Her palm met the back of Myrtle's neck under the tufts of fiery auburn hair to grip it gently with her fingers so she could tilt her head back at the appropriate angle.

_"You've got me blowing, blowing my mind_  
_is it tomorrow or just the end of time?"_

The world ended at that moment for Myrtle. Surely, she was having a heart attack as the thudding intensified in her chest. She felt Fiona lower her body to fit to her own, pressing her breasts to Myrtle's back while her hips jutted against her. Slender fingers slid down Myrtle's arms, making her shiver involuntarily, and then came to a stop; Fiona's right hand encircled Myrtle's right wrist to pull the cue stick back further. No, _now_ she was having a goddamn heart attack. Taking a deep breath that still held the threat of not providing enough air to continue breathing, Myrtle briefly shut her eyes to try focusing. Fiona was just teaching her a game. Nothing more. Self-assurance still worked, right?

"Don't choke the damn thing," Fiona said, giving Myrtle's arm a gentle slap to loosen her grip. In the process, she happened to rub up against Myrtle's rear end ever so innocently, at least in her mind. Nimble digits of her left hand pried at Myrtle's left hand to correct the hold she had on the cue stick. "There...that's better." Fiona canted her head, looming dangerously close to Myrtle's right cheek as she let out a breath that tickled the woman's ear. "You want to line it up so you hit the ball right at the equator to give it a good spin so you can send enough force down there to knock 'em into the pockets. Whichever type you sink first will be yours, either solids or stripes, and I'll get the other. And now for the break." Guiding Myrtle's hands, she helped her draw the stick back with rigid finesse and then sent the white ball careening forward toward the other balls. A satisfying 'crack' sounded as the balls scattered; two of the striped balls hit the back corner pockets. The white cue ball spun to a slow stop in front of a key ball at the right side pocket, but it would need to ricochet off another ball to complete its path to the pocket.

Fiona let out a joyous laugh and hopped a little which caused her pelvis to graze Myrtle's derriere once more. She released Myrtle's left hand to cup her chin so she could place a sloppy kiss to her cheek, and then straightened so she could stumble in her designer heels to the left side of the table. Lifting a hand, she beckoned Myrtle to follow by crooking her finger in the air, smirking in her direction. "It's still your turn my little shark. You'll like this shot."

That fucking _smirk_. Myrtle wished she could hate the way Fiona's upper lip almost disappeared as she flashed her pristine white teeth, amplifying the crimson hue of her plump lower lip. Instead, it made her want to kiss the damn lipstick off of her. With a mask of excitement at the decent shot, Myrtle walked over to Fiona and prepared herself for the same position once again, and nearly collapsed onto the table when Fiona shifted her hips against her several times seemingly trying to position herself to set up the next shot, even her hands seemed to grip her hips more firmly and longer than necessary. And the extra movements couldn't have been from her dancing to the song as it had changed to another 1970s rock group that Myrtle had a hard time placing. The lack of concentration was mostly due in part to Fiona's chin being propped on Myrtle's right shoulder after she cleared away some of the wildly wavy red hair with the back of her hand.

"Alright, little shark, this is what we call...the kiss shot." Fiona's lips curled in an imperceptible smirk and she sidled her cheek close to Myrtle's face. "You're gonna hit the white one so that it makes the striped one repel off that green one there." With each description, she motioned with the stick, rotating their bodies together before repositioning them at the correct angle with the cue ball.

Maybe Fiona was trying to give her a heart attack so the Council would cease their questioning. Yes, that indeed was a likely possibility. With each movement of Fiona's body writhing against her own, Myrtle's chest tightened in pure anxiety. Fiona was trying to kill her with sensuality. Now onto her next theory, Myrtle tried to follow the gist of the game, but it was impossible with the embodiment of sex practically grinding her perfect assets all over her back. Jesusfuckingchrist. Yes, it was all one word to Myrtle at this particular moment, especially when Fiona's lips accidentally brushed the side of her jaw when she leaned in to speak again.

"Now let's see how good your kiss shot is, Myrtle," Fiona let out a throaty chuckle.

With a sharp inhalation of the air that was simply disappearing with each second she was spending with Fiona, Myrtle gave a half-nod of her head, keeping her eyes ahead on the shot they were about to complete. Much to her surprise, it went in. How, with all of this bottled-up sexual frustration, she didn't know, but it was done, and she was more than ready to try playing on her own before she really did suffer cardiac arrest. Except this time, Fiona didn't move from her spot of hovering above Myrtle's body.

Fiona's right hand slipped away from the back of the cue stick and she curled her fingers on Myrtle's hips, pinning her closer to her squirming body, lips lowering to the woman's neck. "I knew you'd be a good kisser," she murmured before snaking her tongue over the flesh of Myrtle's neck, just below her ear.

_Oh God_, Myrtle silently panicked. There were people here still. Was Fiona _that_ drunk? Myrtle angled her head toward the blonde and tried to push up from leaning over the pool table. "Fiona, we can't...with all these people..." Her breath caught in her throat as she eased out of the Supreme's grasp, placing the pool stick on the table before taking Fiona's hands into her own. "And you've been drinking. We just...can't." Regret hung on her words as she betrayed her body's desirous needs. The longing and want had morphed into _need_ that quickly, all because of a woman in a lecherous purple dress.

A scoff sounded from Fiona and she looked at Myrtle with disbelief. "You're joking, right? Darling, I'm not even _close_ to being drunk. And did you forget we can arrange, well, _anything_ to our specifications?" A sharp flick of her wrist sent the stragglers that remained in the bar to wander into another area of the bar where the view of the pool tables was obstructed. "And even then, I'll have a little chat with them before we leave and they won't remember a single thing." She poked her index finger into Myrtle's chest as she stepped in close. "Now sit." Not waiting for Myrtle to comply with the order, Fiona motioned downward with her finger and Myrtle was sent into a seated position as her rear end thudded onto the edge of the pool table.

There was not one feasible argument Myrtle could formulate in her mind to talk her way out of this, as much as her conscience nagged her to do so. After all, a fucking _goddess_ in purple was coming onto her. She scooted back on the edge of the pool table so she was on the felt portion as Fiona prowled closer, the woman's hands moving to her knees to push her legs apart. Myrtle's resolve was non-existent as Fiona caressed her palms up her thighs to reach her hips. Unsure if she could handle direct skin contact at the moment, Myrtle was thankful for her wardrobe choice for the day being an ankle-length dress with a matching tailored jacket.

Fiona abruptly lifted her hands and pushed her digits into the mass of fiery hair on Myrtle's head so she could urge their mouths together in a match of hungry tongues, and Myrtle couldn't help but feel like she was some hormonally charged teenager making out on their first date. She matched Fiona's urgency with the kiss, her own hands gripping the Supreme's shoulders tightly. A few breathless seconds later, Fiona withdrew her right hand to collect the material of Myrtle's dress up around her waist and reluctantly parted from the kiss. At Myrtle's questioning look, Fiona placed her hand flat on the woman's chest to nudge her backward to lay on the table, hand trailing down her abdomen to pause on her hip bone. Within seconds, Fiona's mouth was nestled between Myrtle's thighs, eagerly gnawing at her center through her soaked underwear.

That was certainly direct and to the point, much to Myrtle's surprised relief. Her hips lifted in retaliation, pressing her pelvis against Fiona's mouth which would certainly be leaving smudges of lipstick on her underwear, but Myrtle found it arousing. She flailed her arms at her sides, knocking the remaining pool balls across the red felt, and groaned as Fiona chewed at the thin material, her teeth rubbing against her aching center. Fingers wrapping around one of the balls, Myrtle slammed it on the table in frustration at the teasing actions.

With raised brows, Fiona peeked up from her position between Myrtle's legs, squeezing her knees with both hands as she gave a shake of her head so her tongue could dive beneath the veil of cotton separating her devilish tongue from Myrtle's drenched womanhood. It was plainly obvious what the redhead wanted, so Fiona obliged, swirling her tongue over the fleshy folds and then lapping upward against Myrtle's swollen clit. She heard the pool ball roll violently across the table and smack into another ball, and smirked at the desired effect she had on the woman.

Fiona could practically _eat _her, alternating between gentle gnawing on the sensitive folds of skin, prodding her tongue inside the slick walls, and then finally swiping up against the bundle of nerves to urge her to a throbbing climax. Repeating the actions with a relentless fervor, She growled against Myrtle's soaked pelvic bone when she felt the woman's hands ensnare her tresses to lock her mouth against her clit as she pressed her hips upward. Assuming that she must have been close, Fiona secured her mouth flush to Myrtle's center and sucked against her clit as if it would release the familiar toxic taste of cigarette into her lungs.

A moment later, Myrtle whimpered loudly as she slammed her hips into Fiona's face, her fingernails scratching her scalp to keep her in place as she finished her climatic journey. All of the pent up frustration that her body had contained for the last several decades was now released, and she didn't feel an ounce of guilt or fear. If Fiona had wanted to oust her or kill her, she would have done so by now. Instead, she had buried her face into her and ate quite ravenously. Myrtle still couldn't catch her breath from the feelings Fiona had elicited, especially with the woman still grasping her legs.

After a few more gentle suckles, Fiona wriggled free of the grasp on her head, her perfectly styled hair now unkempt, and her lips smeared with crimson lipstick. Leaning forward with both hands on the edge of the table, she slid her torso over Myrtle's body to feel her rapid breathing and stared down at her. "Well, we didn't finish that game, but it looks like you won."

Still pleasantly numb, Myrtle leisurely splayed her arms out again, knocking the last few pool balls away. She gazed up at Fiona's flushed face with a saucy smile, lifting a hand to touch her knuckles to the Supreme's flawless jawline. "I haven't seen your kiss shot yet. Maybe you'll win next time."


End file.
